


Aftercare

by prefertheconsultingdetective



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6514474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prefertheconsultingdetective/pseuds/prefertheconsultingdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has a hangover and meets this absolute gorgeous new barrista. That's it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftercare

**Author's Note:**

> this is absolute senseless fluff, inspired by me going out with a friend yesterday, despite being severely hungover, it resulted in me being confused all the time and turning every situation into a fic prompt, because seriously it's just the perfect setup, right? 
> 
> So, this is for you, Anika, I wish you were into Stucky to enjoy this properly.

Bucky is hungover. And not even just a little bit.

  
He woke up this morning, his face smashed against Clint's arm and drooling a bit on his bedsheets. There had been a moment of confusion and the brief flicker of fear _-did they??_ \- but then Bucky had realized that they were both fully dressed and _then_ he had realized why he was feeling like his head was split open and something was rotting in his mouth.

  
He groans loudly to let Natasha know exactly how much he's suffering.  
Because it's partly her fault.

  
_(yes, it is_ , because whenever she and Clint are having a fight, Clint always -always!- comes to Bucky and wants to get hammered and somehow Bucky still hasn't learned how to say no.)

  
"God, James, you're such a fucking lightweight." Natasha says icily and practically oozes disapprovement.

But it's not Bucky's fault that both she and her boyfriend only have one friend, which means they both have to use said friend - that friend is Bucky, hello - to pour out their hearts (Clint) and rant for a long,  _long_ time (Natasha). 

  
The look she gives him now might have frightened Bucky a couple of years ago when he hadn’t known her long, but these days it just makes him groan louder, because he just knows how much it's going on her nerves.

  
"Fuck off, Romanoff, not everyone can chuck down Russian vodka like it's water." he sighs and wants nothing more than to be home. Alone. In the safe comfort of his bed.

  
But no, somehow he's the most unlucky little shit in this whole universe, because when Clint and Natasha are fighting that means for Bucky; getting drunk with Clint in the evening and spending the next day with Natasha.

  
He has to listen to both of them complain and feels like he's as much a part of the issue as they are now.  
It's like being the third part in a threesome, but not the good kind.

  
Natasha just waves away all his complaints and opens the door to their usual 'lets talk about what happened and made want to rip Clint's balls off' coffee shop.

  
It's the typical hipstery shop that you can find on every other corner these days, but it's sweet anyway and weirdly authentic with it's vintage chairs and tables.  
And the handmade cookies by Peggy, who owns the place, are to die for.

  
Even when you're hungover and food is generally the enemy. 

  
Bucky zones out a bit. 

Due to Bucky’s awful hangover it takes him a couple of minutes to realize that there’s a new guy behind the counter, that he seems to be waiting for Bucky to order and that he looks like a Greek god.

  
“Um what?” Bucky asks and tries to work his way through his cloudy brain to at least try to appear like a normal human being.

  
He’s not sure he succeeds.

  
“He’s asking for your order, you shithead.” Natasha says and elbows him in his side.

  
“Oh yes, of course, of course, sorry, I’m just –“ he waves in the general direction of the counter and the fucking gorgeous man behind it, trying to appear like a man that just gives a lot of thought into what coffee to order on this lovely day.

  
“Just black for me”, he says then and the gorgeous greek god just laughs and there’s something so smug about his grin and Bucky wants to climb him like a tree and carry his children.

  
When he’s less hungover, that is.

  
“I’ll bring it over”, he says and even his voice is gorgeous. Deep and nice and probably perfect for dirty talk and bedtime stories. Dirty, dirty bedtime stories.

  
He turns around and starts preparing the orders and again; it takes Bucky some time to realize what he should do next.  
(He’s entirely distracted by the guy’s ass this time, though)

Bucky turns, too and finds Natasha already seated at their usual small table in the back.

  
She is glaring at him and mouths something that looks a lot like _asshole_ , but Bucky is a good friend, he’s going to ignore that and pretend she didn’t just call him that.

  
“Have you finished slobbering all over Steve’s ass, yes? Can we go back to topic now?” she asks and her voice is loud and icy and feels awful working it’s way through his ears inside his brain.

  
“Yes, yes, okay, calm your –“ Bucky stops mid sentence. “Steve? How do you know this guys name? Steve What? God that’s perfect, his mom probably calls him Steven. That’s so sweet.” He sighs and in his mind he’s already calling him Stevie and naming all his kids after him.

  
He seriously wishes for a moment that he was able to get pregnant, because it’s a shame, really, for these genes to go to waste.

But then there’s a cough from somewhere behind him and when Bucky turns around the guy – Steve – is there, holding a tablet with their coffee orders and some cookies, too, and he’s looking a bit weird, a lot confused and absolutely adorable.

  
And Bucky wants to explain and tell him that he’s sorry, he wants to swear that’s not usually like this, really, and it’s only because of his hangover that he’s behaving like some dog in rut.

  
But then Steve starts to smile and takes another step towards them and delicately places the tablet on their table and when he leans a bit into Bucky’s space he can smell his aftershave – and it obviously smells just perfect – and then he says;

  
“It’s Steven Grant Rogers, actually, and yes, my mom calls me Steven, but usually only when I fucked up. But I’m sure your name is just as perfect and maybe you can tell me all about it over dinner sometime?”

  
And maybe the floor opens up and Bucky happily falls into his grave. It’s a good way to die.

  
He’s also sure that suddenly his headache and the nauseous feeling in his stomach are entirely gone and there’s an absolute different kind of flutter inside of him now.


End file.
